melissaahowells
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human history is pockmarked
with tragedy some so great and some small-- none are small how is it that I am no longer safe comforting myself unable to wipe the dried tears from the corners of my tired eyes why is there an expired vial of medicine in the refrigerator nearly four years after HE has gone I search my heart for a picture of him to give me comfort-- most times I find him there yet it is often, not enough humans are odd creatures simultaneously sentimental and cruel fool-hardy and obeying but without rules or perhaps those who only apply indiscriminately at the dictator's indulgence or with the prevailing favorable winds brothers don't forgive brothers when they are different mothers and daughters wear petty resentments like badges and outfits siblings and parents and children are forgotten as the live alone outside floundering and foraging to get by some die in the cold forgotten until they are found Guernica the Red Revolution Tustis and Hutus Poltpot and His Killing Fields Pinochet dropping his enemies from airplanes Death camps and Gulags are a cold fixture of life in Russia and in China and in North Korea Elephants murdered for ivory when there are stockpiles One Coyote dies every minute Wolves and Bears hunted with explosives And America lets murderers come to us and get all the medical help they need others we let fly fly away Old Men and Kings and Queens and Presidents decreeing wars while young men and boys become fields where poppies grow now deliberate disease and we scoff and exclaim we've have not seen something like this and so.... others have and it has left scars and legions of skulls and deep mournful silence in its wake sometimes I feel all of this is much too much to take I would rather be an animal there seems to be so much more dignity in that at least now they have a reprieve from us I would lay odds they are much happier human history is pockmarked with tragedy so much of it unnecessary so much of it planned so much of it watched observed and a known quantity while we are manipulated into believing the message they are wrong no one life is a statistic no one life is meaningless every time someone dies especially every time an animal dies the world is forever changed see how the little of explosions of light that are souls make silent fireworks there are no brief candles The Great Spirit knows and cherishes all. LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 11:03 am 4/16/2020 TIME AND DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD STRAIGHT FROM THE LIGHT OF MY HEART TO THE PAGE I AM AWARE THERE ARE MISPELLINGS OF CERTAIN ETHNIC GROUPS HERE IF YOU CAN ENLIGHTEN ME, GO AHEAD. WHAT IS MORE IMPORTANT TO ME IN THIS MOMENT IN TIME IS MY MESSAGE...EDITS CAN BE MADE LATER ON. Vote for this poem |
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